Flicker
by GeishaGirl93
Summary: It is a moment doomed (or destined) to repeat. Jiraiya/Naruto


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Naruto.  
**A/N:** I've seen (and read) Orochimaru/Sasuke, why not Jiraiya/Naruto

**Title: **Flicker  
**Summary: **It is a moment doomed to repeat.  
**Pairing:** Jiraiya/Naruto, mentioned Gaara/Naruto, mentioned Sasuke/Naruto, mentioned Jiraiya/Orochimaru unrequited Jiraiya/Kushina  
**Warnings:** yaoi, kind of AU because Sasuke is back in the village

Xxx

I.

Gaara is a man now; everything has filled out and deepened (and dropped) and he is a man. He knows about responsibility and sacrifice and pain; he knows how to lead and follow; he is powerful and sturdy—his spine always carrying the weight of others.

But he is still a child. Somewhere deep, he is still a child.

He touches Naruto with a child's hands (carefully, slowly), kisses him with a child's kisses (short, sweet contact that does nothing to leave a lasting impression).

"Am I doing this right?"

He even questions like a child, always wondering what is right and wrong, but love is foreign to him; physical contact beyond a hand on his shoulder or a kiss on his cheek from his sister is foreign; this is new to them both, and Naruto forgets that sometimes as Gaara touches the spot inside him that makes him squirm.

"Am I doing this right?"

"Yeah, just keep going."

And when Gaara slips inside him, Naruto has to bite his tongue so he doesn't speak Sasuke's name.

II.

Jiraiya watches because he is Naruto's guardian and that is what he's supposed to do (although he has no doubt that Kushina would destroy him if she knew what he was doing).

Naruto looks like his father, but his expressions, his mannerisms, even his voice (changing and rolling like a never-ending tide), is his mother's. Spread out across the sheets, the Gaara boy moving on top of him, he even makes love like Kushina—arms cradling his partner, eyes soft with understanding, his men's yukatarolling up to his thighs (it's a solid gray with a black obi, and Jiraiya thinks it's not Naruto's colors _at all_; he's brighter—colors of summer, oranges and blues and greens).

Konoha's summer wind is perfumed with onions and cut grass; the moon shines down like a watchful eye, and Naruto's eyes are clear and sharp in the white light. He has his father's eyes, but he has his mother's thighs (and Jiraiya remembers Kushina in that beautiful summer dress with the flowers on the front and lace at the hem, the fabric dancing around her thighs and creating a shadow over her groin), and he has his mother's hands (those delicate things that could crush mountains or heal even the deepest wound).

Gaara kisses Naruto's shoulder, nips at his and laves the red flesh with his tongue, and Jiraiya swallows the jealousy that bubbles up in his throat.

I.

It goes without saying—Naruto's in love.

Sasuke's bitter about it, and Naruto thinks:

_You had a chance._

Gaara is confused about it, and Naruto thinks:

_It's okay; we don't have to be anything more right now._

Jiraiya speaks with a familiar smile that Naruto has seen on his own face and thinks:

_You're hiding something._

II.

He doesn't want to hate Gaara. He and Naruto have been through enough, Jiraiya thinks (and he remembers the bruises and burns on Naruto's hands, the dirt on his body, the weary smile that was the spitting image of his mother's).

"I'm fine, Jiraiya-sensei, really."

And Jiraiya believes him because he knows not to push.

I.

Sasuke kisses him one day, and it's not completely unexpected. The way Sasuke's lips had been moving, silently forming words, the way his tongue and slowly moistened his lips. It was like he had been practicing (and Naruto doesn't understand this because _for sure _Sasuke has kissed someone other than him).

The kiss tastes like green tea and bitterness.

"You don't love me." Naruto tells him.

"Yes, I do." And Sasuke is so adamant, Naruto almost believes him.

"I love someone else."

"He doesn't love you." The Uchiha patience is cracking down, and Sasuke's fists shake at his side.

"I know but I like the way things are right now."

II.

Jiraiya watches and wonders if Sasuke had tasted beef ramen on Naruto's lips.

I.

"He kissed me."

"Why would he do that?"

Gaara's cheek is soft against Naruto's belly, and Naruto strokes his hair (and he thinks of his beautiful mother with her red hair and soft smile and wonders if she did this to his father).

Naruto shrugs (and his shoulders are stiff with the movement because this is the first time he doesn't have an answer or can't explain an action).

"I'm not sure; I think he loves me."

"How can you tell?"

"With Sasuke, I can never tell."

II.

Jiraiya remembers Orochimaru; remembers him before the madness.

He had been an excellent lover—soft like a woman with all the deadly power of a snake. He had been quiet in bed except for heated whispers and moans, quiet gasps that felt more like hiccups.

But he had slipped; had gotten lost in some deep darkness that had blossomed in his soul.

Jiraiya couldn't pull him out, and he had lost his best friend.

Kushina had died protecting her child, and no matter how hard Jiraiya wishes (even now, as he watches Naruto unfold beneath Gaara like a blossom—and how poetic is that, he thinks).

Naruto speaks softly in Gaara's ear, and Gaara melts against him, nuzzles at Naruto's chest and takes a coral nipple into his mouth (and Jiraiya thinks it's the imitation of a mother feeding her child).

I.

He leaves with Jiraiya to train.

Gaara kisses him goodbye and there is no passion behind it.

Sasuke kisses him, and it's angry—forceful.

"Don't leave me."

"I've never left you; you left me."

II.

Naruto is older now—everything had developed and ripened (and Jiraiya tries not to picture Naruto's soft thighs damp with water or sweat), and yet there is still so much of a child in him (in the blue of his eyes, in the soft angles of his body, in the way he follows in front of Jiraiya—hands tucked behind his head).

Naruto asks:

"Where do you want to go?"

Jiraiya replies:

"I'd figure we'd head up to a _onsen _first before we start the real training."

Naruto laughs:

"We're going to actually do some _training _this time?"

Naruto smiles at him over his shoulder (and blonde hair turns to red).

I.

Perhaps, if Jiraiya had been younger or if Naruto had been older, he could have loved Jiraiya.

They are like spirits in different flesh, and as Naruto dumps a cool bucket of water over his head (and he wonders what he looks like beneath florescent lights, wet with water), he thinks of those clichéd romance stories that Sakura likes to read when they have down-times on mission.

"Nah, I don't think I would like that."

"Wouldn't like what?"

Jiraiya's hair is freed from its ponytail, but it still holds its shape. Despite being over fifty, Jiraiya is chiseled and scarred (by Naruto's own hands, and he blinks the memories away); he's golden and has seen things and talked of things that made Naruto love him (lost love, future love, a love never meant to be).

"Wouldn't like what?"

(Naruto smiles to hide his secrets, and this Naruto knows he has inherited from his mother).

"Nothing."

II.

Kushina appears to him in Naruto's flesh: the luscious angle of his thigh, the softness of his arms, the way his smile seems to be a defense mechanism that his body has developed, the way he runs his hands through his hair and tilts his head back, elongating his neck and making it seem so delicate and feminine.

(Jiraiya wants to kiss, but he has rights and wrongs that he refuses to cross.)

I.

Even though Naruto is aware that Jiraiya knows he is there, Naruto touches him anyway.

He traces Jiraiya's face, his raised pectorals, the scars kunai and shuriken have etched into Jiraiya's skin (and he touches the scar he made with hesitant fingers).

Jiraiya sighs and breaths a word (a name), and his sleeping kimono opens to create a dark triangle in the shadow of his groin.

Naruto kisses his cheek, his neck, and Jiraiya moves, moves his hands over unfamiliar territory (and Jiraiya is not like Sasuke or Gaara; he is hardened from life, from experience, from pain, and Naruto relishes in it).

"Why are you letting me do this?"

Jiraiya wraps his arm around Naruto and pulls him close (like he never wants to let him go).

II.

Jiraiya whispers against his ear (his willing ear that has taken in so much—hateful cries, training lessons, love confessions and rejections):

"We both need a break; you from your loneliness and me from watching."

I.

It spills over into them both—the need and want to be complete.

Naruto rocks on Jiraiya like he had rocked on Gaara, but there is something different about this. Jiraiya settles his hands on Naruto's hips, and Jiraiya's hands are big and warm and encompass the bones that have cracked and broken—cradles them like their treasured jewels (and Naruto thinks: _this is what it feels like to be safe_).

Naruto kisses him because he feels like this is what he should do, and Jiraiya's lips taste of sake and a life time of broken dreams and love.

II.

Jiraiya thinks:

_He needs this; he needs this; he needs this._

He refuses to listen to the voice in the back of his head chanting:

_You need this; you need this; you need this._

Naruto moves like Kushina—his hips rotating and swiveling like he's performing a dance; his eyes never leaves Jiraiya, and his lips are parted and glistening with sweat and are stained a deep shade of red from Jiraiy's teeth and tongue (and his is so beautiful that it's almost painful—a mixture between his mother's strength and loveliness and his father's learned humility).

Naruto kisses him again and swallows Jiraiya's groan as he climaxes.

I.

"You're like coming home."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Yes."

"Then thank you."

"What am I to you?"

II.

He speaks the truth because this is no time for lying:

"You are my freedom."

I.

Everything will return to normal because that is how life works (but Naruto will not scrub as hard at his skin so that Jiraiya's scent won't was down the drain). Gaara will comment, but Naruto will kiss the questions away, and Sasuke will be unaware but suspecting.

He knows Jiraiya watches, and he's okay with that.


End file.
